"Sherlock, my dear," Mrs. Hudson called out cheerfully as she entered his room. Mycroft joined her knowing she was the one person his brother wouldn't ignore. Standing in the corner he watched her with a smile.

She pulled the blanket back from over his head to run her fingers through his hair. "Why are you hiding under there? Come out and eat. Now you know better than skipping meals."

"Not hungry." The smell of chocolate drifted through the air. "Are those chocolate biscuits?" Sherlock asked in a voice rough from disuse.

"They are, but only for those who eat some real food first." She informed him before turning and winking at Mycroft. "Now I understand that your brother brought you some eggs and toast with your favorite jam. If you eat up everything, I'll give you one biscuit that I baked."

"Two?" Sherlock bargained.

Pretending to think and looking toward Mycroft who nodded, she sighs. "Only if you eat all the eggs and toast and drink a cup of tea."

With her encouragement and a smile from his brother, Sherlock slowly chewed on the toast, took a small fork full of the eggs, and sipped the tea until all were consumed. "I'm done." He sounded like a small unsure child who hoped he had made her happy.

Mrs. Hudson handed him three instead of two biscuits. "You did a great job, thank you."

During this time Mycroft moved closer to him until he was sitting against the headboard. Mrs. Hudson handed him a biscuit, "Thanks, Mrs. Hudson."

"Well, boys I need to get back home. Now Sherlock, no more biscuits unless you eat a modest amount of food before receiving them." She picked up her purse and headed toward the bedroom door. "I'll see you in a few days, dear."

After she left, Sherlock looked at his brother. "She only gave you one."

"I didn't eat first. May I lay beside you?" hope sounding in his request.

Sherlock appeared to be thinking it over when Mycroft promised. "Just lay, nothing else."

A small nod from Sherlock loosened the knot in Mycroft's chest a little. He rested just taking in the warmth of his brother and hoping he was on the mend.
_

Upset about Greg's attitude, John decided to apologize to Mrs. Hudson and see if she knew how Sherlock was. Hearing her returning from wherever she had been, he knocked on her door. After she opened the door, she glared at him. "What do YOU want, Dr. Watson?"

"Look, Mrs. H," he started while looking down at his feet. "I'm sorry for all the yelling the other night, but you know how Sherlock can wind people up."

"Dr. Watson, I was on the landing and heard what happened. How dare you blame Sherlock, when you're the one who was out of line. You caused Sherlock to collapse. Now if you don't mind, I'm your landlady, not your therapist. Perhaps you need to consider your actions. However, as of now, do not bother me again unless it's with your portion of the rent." And with that, she slammed the door in his face.

John stared at the door, "Why is everyone blaming me, when they all know how rude Sherlock is and his mouth is always ruining things. This is not my fault." He told himself as he slowly walked away. _

Mycroft had seen a small change in Sherlock. Although still not allowing any romantic affection, his brother was discussing other things with him. After the last week, Mycroft knew he would have to go back to work for a few hours for meetings and problems that Athena wasn't able to handle. However, he was concerned about the weakness his brother was showing.

"Sherlock, I'll need to go into the office for a few hours tomorrow." Mycroft wasn't sure how his brother would feel about it and hoped he wouldn't feel abandoned.

"Go, I don't want you in more trouble because of me. Really, I'm okay Mikey. According to everyone, I'm just not healthy enough to go back to 221B yet."

"I'm not trying to get rid of you. I just want to assure that you're up to being left alone or would you like me to see if Mrs. Hudson could stay with you?"

"I'm not a child, Mycroft," Sherlock sounded angry for the first time since the incident.

"I'm not saying you are, just want you to feel comfortable. I know you can't do the steps yet without help. It will be no more than three hours or so." Mycroft assured him but had to admit he was happy to see some animation in his brother's reaction.

"You have a job to do, and I'm sure I can manage by myself. As soon as I can do stairs, I'll go back home."

"Sherlock, this is your home also. Stay as long as you like. I like having you around. How about I have Cook fix us some dinner?"

"Are there any of those biscuits left?" Mycroft had gotten Sherlock to eat small amounts with the promise of some of the bakery afterward. "There are but remember Mrs. Hudson's order, eat some first, then desserts. I'm not brave enough to go against that woman. She scares me."

"You can't be afraid of her, she's just an old lady," Sherlock protested.

"With a big frying pan. Now, how about a meal because I don't think either of us wants to feel that pan on our butts." Mycroft teased.

"Can I have some tomato noodles?" Sherlock asked admitting he was hungry for a change.

"Anything you want. Anything at all," Mycroft left the room smiling after getting his brother in the chair and set him up to eat. Maybe the depression was beginning to lift.
_

It's been a week and John was really worried now. He had heard nothing from Sherlock and no one had told him anything. Hoping Molly knew his condition, he entered the morgue where he found her in the middle of an autopsy.

"Hi," John called up as he walked up to her table.

Instead of answering him, she turned away and continued with her examination.

"Molly?"

"Did you want something, Dr. Watson?" Whipping around, John saw that sweet, timid Molly was furious.

"I see you heard. Look I know what I did was wrong, but I was drunk and you know how he likes to push people with his comments. All I want to know is if you know how he is."

"How dare you blame him? He can now see out of both eyes and move his jaw although with pain. However, you lied to him when you told him you accepted his relationship then told him what you truly feel. Blaming your comments on being drunk isn't an acceptable reason. His heart is broken and believes he's putting us all in danger by knowing about his and Mycroft's love. Now if you don't mind, get out. I'm busy."

"Look, Molly," was as far as he got before she slapped him.

"I want you to leave. I treated him and saw the damage you did and how guilty and broken he feels because of your accusations. Now get out and don't come back."

John left rubbing his face still not sure what exactly was going on with Sherlock that was causing everyone hated him. After all, Sherlock had pushed him with his smart mouth, he had just reacted.